


Mister J

by PhysicsWitch



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Kidnapping, Non-Canon Relationship, Revenge, Sexual Abuse, The Joker - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 11:23:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17600411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhysicsWitch/pseuds/PhysicsWitch
Summary: I may not be like most people. I don't enjoy clubs, or drinking and all those typical things young adults enjoy. I do however watch the news. I know who he is. I know what kinds of things he has done. I know what guys like him enjoy, and that's to have their ego's stroked. I always knew, thanks to the media, that The Joker was a bad guy. I guess I just didn't realize how bad till the day he kidnapped me.I am Rosalie Sagan, and I am going to kill The Joker.





	Mister J

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a WIP and not completed as of yet.

Gut wrenching nausea. It hit me like a tidal wave, washing over me. Consuming me whole.

**Darkness.**

Blood trickling down my lip. Split open and throbbing.

**Darkness.**

There are no windows, no clocks, no sun or moon or stars. Just the bed, the binds, the four walls and the door. Pain. Isolation.

**Darkness.**

**_*THWACK*_ **

"Wake up, I cant very well play with you while you smell like that. I can smell your cunt from here." He laughed at me as he said this. Day in, and day out, the pain was never-ending. It all bled together like some sick dream scene. The first few days, in an effort to preserve my sanity I suppose, my brain kept trying to convince my body that this was just a dream. A nightmare. I knew better. No matter how much I had hoped, I knew. I _wish_ I could have believed it, perhaps the life as I now know it would be bearable. Yes. I'm lying to myself. Shoot me. _Really_. It would be the ultimate awakening from this "nightmare".

The laughing man leaned down and before my brain can really register what he was doing, he squatted down and lowered his head between my legs and took a deep shuddering breath. Biting his smeared, red painted lip he tossed me a wink and reached down to untie my binds. His fingers lingering on my skin just a fraction of a second too long. Cold and dead. His touch sent shivers down my spine and made me think of ghosts and graves. Rubbing my wrists, I glared at him. Wishing with every fiber of my being that looks really _could_ kill. I pushed myself up, not taking my eyes off of his. Telling him without words, that I am not broken, he has not beaten me. He may have my body and freedom, but he will never have my soul. "Atta girl Miss Rosalie, let's go wash that nasty cock trap!" The laughing man clapped his hands together excitedly as he said this, prancing around in place like an overstimulated child. "It really is a trap though isn't it Miss Rosalie! Every time I'm in there, I just cant seem to pull myself out again!" He cackled at me and it churned my stomach. I hated the thought of him being inside me. _I think_. His hard, cold, pale cock shoving into me like a railroad spike being driven home. I've been here for the better part of two weeks now, and every few days he breaks up the "monotony" of beating me, to fuck me. He is never gentle, never kind. It is a hard, frantic kind of bodily invasion. His fix. That is exactly what it is. _What I am_.

The warm water showered down onto my body like the embrace of a lover. Soothing my aches and pains, even though the water bit sharply at my cuts and scrapes. Washing away the sweat and grime and tears that had sunken into every pore of my skin. Even here, I have no privacy. His eyes are always watching me. Glistening and glittering with a cold sick hunger. "Dont forget behind your ears Rose!" he giggles and slaps his knee, but there is no humour or jest in his eyes. They stay alert, cold. Hyper-focused. I wish he would just let me have this time to myself. Under other circumstances, I would have been happy to be in a shower like this. The shower itself has four heads, all angled in different directions. Each intended to gently massage your body. The walls, a grey, black, and white mosaic with intricate gold filigree. There is even a built in spot to sit should one so choose to use it like a sauna. It is on this, that he had left some soap, a rag made of some sort of soft fabric, shampoo and even conditioner. They all smelled like varying degrees of lavender. A soothing scent. If only it were possible for me to be soothed. I take what I can get though. Closing my eyes, doing my absolute best to pretend that he is not here, that I am not here. I am at home, in my shower. I glide the soapy rag over my body. Gently over the bruises that are blooming on my skin, gently over the sick yellowing bruises from the weeks past. Inhaling the scent of lavender and letting it sink into me. Up my belly, and trailing over my breasts, up my neck. My eyes snap open as something ice cold touches my bare hip. I sharply inhale as I foolishly realize that he slide the shower door open without me having noticed and is now staring at me with a flush rising in his pale cheeks, his eyes heavily lidded and lofty. " _Let me help you Rose_." He took the rag from me and roughly turns me around. My bare ass facing him. My heart races, whether in fright, or excitement, I cannot quite tell. I wince in preparation for the pain that I know will come.

Instead of pain, there is nothing. Confused I wait. _Nothing_. Had it not been for the Heavy, rhythmic breathing, I would have thought he left. Before I have time to talk myself down, I turn my head and look back. **_*THWACK*_** He slaps me so hard my eyes begin to water and I immediately turn back around. Biting my lip to keep myself from crying, I will not give him the satisfaction. He loves it when I cry. The look he had on his face when I turned around though, what _was_ that look? Lust I'm sure...But, that didn't look like lust. It looked like... _infatuation? Pride?_ I am snapped out of my confusion by the sensation of him gently washing my back with the rag. **_*SPLOOT*_** I look down and there is the rag at my feet. Fearing that he will tell me to pick it up, so he can take me from behind, I tensed up. Instead of doing that, I feel his fingers tracing up my spine, along my shoulder blades, teasing the hairline at the back of my neck. Goosebumps break out all over my bruised flesh. His half cocked smirk boring into the back of my head. With a quickness like lightening, he firmly grasps the back of my neck and cocks my head to the side. I feel his hot breath hovering over the skin of my neck, my jugular throbbing in tandem with my racing heart. He lingers, breathing in the steam and scent rising up off of my body. " _Move so much as an inch and I will gut you like a pig Rose, you don't want that now do you?_ " he growls in my ear, his lips so close to me that I fear out of sheer insanity he will chew the side of my face off. " _No Mister J._ " I replied to him, in a hushed tone.

I may not be like most people. I don't enjoy clubs, or drinking and all those typical things young adults enjoy. I do watch the news though. I know who he is. I know what kinds of things he has done. I know what guys like him enjoy, and that's to have their ego's stroked. I always knew, thanks to the media, that The Joker was a bad guy. I guess I just didn't realize _how_ bad till the day he kidnapped me.

I heard his belt unbuckle and strained my ears over the sound of the thundering water for the sound of a zipper. It did not come. _***CRACK***_ The belt he had been wearing came down on my bare wet ass, peals of laughter and primal grunting mixing with the sounds of the water. Over and over the belt came down. 

**_Darkness._ **


End file.
